


I wasn't out to find love (you got me all weak)

by cryingintheclub



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, THIS IS THE PRETTY WOMAN AU NOBODY ASKED FOR, and matty wade for their contribution, and nathan coulter nile, i didn't think their cameos were big enough to be characters so, special mention goes out to josh philippe, this is completely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-03-09 13:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingintheclub/pseuds/cryingintheclub
Summary: in which Shaun's rich, Tim is not and Jimmy's to blame for getting them into this mess.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> this is the pretty woman au nobody asked for in honour of the cricket world cup. this fic came about because I couldn't stop thinking about shaun in a suit at the australian cricket awards (with a suit that actually fits him)

"I told my secretary to make the arrangements. Didn't she call you?" 

_"Yes, she did. I speak to your secretary more than I speak to you."_

Shaun didn’t miss the dig that Nathan had sent his way. He sighed and ran a hand through his freshly trimmed hair.

_“I have my own life too you know, Shaun,”_ Nathan continued, sounding completely done with Shaun and whatever they had. Shaun could imagine that Nathan was biting his bottom lip, something he did when he was frustrated at Shaun. (Which was 99% of the time these days). 

“This is a _very_ important week for me. I need you here,” Shaun pleaded, hoping to guilt-trip Nathan into coming. Shaun couldn’t not have Nathan on his arm, not after he was outed as gay. It was embarrassing enough that this party had hosted in his honour and he showed up solo. He couldn’t survive the next week alone, with everybody asking him if he was seeing someone or trying to set him up with their gay third cousin twice removed.

_"And what about me? What about when_ I _need you?”_ Nathan countered, huffing over the line. _“You never give me any notice. You think I’m at your beck and call. I have a life too, you know.”_

Shaun sighed as he gripped his temple exasperatedly. “I know you do, Nathan, but it’s an important week for me. I need you here.”

_“Is the only reason you want me in L.A is to avoid people setting you up? Or you actually want me there, because you want my company?”_

Shaun fell silent, not having a response for Nathan.

_"Thought so.”_ At that, the line went dead, and Shaun knew that whatever he and Nathan had was finally over.

Shaun pocketed his phone and smoothed over the creases on his suit. He had a problem on his hands now that Nathan had decided that he wasn’t going to be at Shaun’s “beck and call” anymore. Whatever _that_ meant.

 

**⏤**

 

Shaun was ambushed by an energetic blonde kid with a baby face - an intern - who always asked Shaun way too many questions about his job. Shaun recalled that his name was Jack? - no, _Josh_ , his name was Josh.

“Now’s not the best time, Jack -”

“Josh,” the kid corrected unhelpfully, his smile too bright who had been an intern for over a month now and nobody could be bothered to remember his name.

“Hello, Mr. Marsh.” A woman in the tightest dress Shaun had ever seen breezed past him, giving him a flirtatious smile and wave before grabbing a flute of champagne and rejoining her circle of socialite friends.

Shaun gave her a quick, polite wave, brushing past her as he made his way down to the party. He beelined for the cloakroom, where a waiter was waiting with his coat. He was heading for the exit where he heard a familiar female voice call his name.

Shaun stifled his groan and turned around, plastering a faux smile at his ex-girlfriend. “Hello, Charlotte.” They gave each other a kiss on the cheek for appearances, not wanting to cause a scene at this high-end party.

Shaun couldn't help but eye the large diamond on his ex’s ring finger. “I heard that you got married,” Shaun said, initiating small talk.

“Well… after hearing that you were gay, it explained why you always brushed off my attempts at having the marriage conversation,” Charlotte replied, laughing lightly but looking away at the last moment, the awkwardness between the two exes still lingering.

Shaun looked down at his shoes, still not used to the fact that his sexuality was now common knowledge to all socialites across the country.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Charlotte, when you and I were dating, did you speak to my secretary more than you spoke to me?”

The hesitation in Charlotte’s eyes said it all, and it was clear that Shaun knew the answer to his question. “She was one of my bridesmaids,” Charlotte eventually said, biting on her lip to stop a knowing smile blossoming.

Shaun exchanged goodbyes with Charlotte and he was off, away from this stifling party which had made him feel lightheaded and suffocated. As he walked outside, he stopped to take a breath of fresh air. He wasn’t cut for this; all the schmoozing and small talk. It was the thing he hated most about his job.

Shaun untied his tie and hung it loosely around his neck, looking for an escape route. He couldn’t take the limo he came in; there were about a hundred cars banked up in front of it. His driver, Jason, smiled apologetically at him.

“Is this Mr. Langer’s car?” he asked the valets pointing to a royal blue Chevrolet Camaro. The two valets gave him blank stares in reply as they paused their conversation. Shaun didn’t get a chance to ask them again because Justin called out his name, jogging over to where Shaun was standing beside his car.

“Can I have your keys? The limo’s stuck all the way back there and I don’t have time for this,” Shaun asked Justin, just wanting to leave so he could just breathe and not feel suffocated up to his neck with worrying about wining and dining clients all day every day. 

“What’s the rush? You don’t have to leave now, come back in for a glass or two.” Justin Langer, Shaun’s attorney, tried to persuade him with the same tone he used with his clients.

“Hand me your keys,” Shaun demanded, not wanting a bar of what Justin was saying.

“I don’t think you should drive,” Justin said. “You don’t know the streets of L.A.”

“I don’t care,” Shaun replied, adamant on just going back to his hotel room and drowning his sorrows in the mini bar to avoid the fact that he was so shitty at his relationships his secretary was more involved than he was. 

Reluctantly, Justin handed Shaun the keys to his Camaro, looking up at the sky as though he was praying that Shaun didn’t damage his car. Anybody who knew Justin Langer knew he took pride in his cars and cared and fussed about them more than he did about his own wife.

“For the love of God, Shaun, just be careful. I love this car and I love it _especially_ when it’s one piece.” Shaun ignored Justin’s fretting as he started the engine, jolting the car forward as he accidentally put too much pressure on the accelerator. At this, Justin looked like he was a mix between being nauseous and bursting a blood vessel.

Shaun smirked at this and hit on the accelerator, speeding out of the driveway and leaving Justin in the dust, who was yelling at Shaun with his hands in the air.  


**⏤**

  


Shaun sped down the streets of Los Angeles, music blasting out of the radio. The songs were too poppy and sappy for Shaun’s liking, but he didn't care. The windows were winded all the way down, the wind whistling in his ears as he sped down the winding streets, the bright lights of Hollywood twinkling in the distance. 

After two hours of driving in what felt like circles, Shaun came to a stop on the side of the road. The sun had gone down, replaced by the inky black darkness. The streets looked unfamiliar and the feeling of satisfaction that came with speeding away from Justin and the party lost its appeal once Shaun realised he was lost.

Finally having a chance to look around, Shaun’s stomach dropped. The streets were grimy, garbage strewn across the pavement carelessly. Young adults and middle aged people loitered around the sidewalks, looking suspicious and paranoid, constantly looking over their shoulder. Across the road, Shaun saw a boy drop something into a girl’s hand discreetly before leaving after she handed him a handful of notes. He felt faint at witnessing a drug deal for the first time.

The filthy streets were lined with seedy, run-down bars and nightclubs, neon lights flickering on and off sinisterly, leaving Shaun uneasy.

Looking around once more, Shaun realised that he had accidentally wandered onto Hollywood Boulevard’s red-light district.

_Shit._

  


**⏤**

  


Tim had only been at the club for ten minutes and he was already counting down the hours until he could leave. He had just found out his roommate, Jimmy, had blown all their rent money for the second consecutive month in a row to get high with his off-again on-again dealer/boyfriend Matthew or as Jimmy called him, _‘Wadey’_. Tim preferred to call him ‘wanker’, but didn’t want to suffer through Jimmy’s ridiculous speeches about how ‘ _Wadey is a good guy_ ’ and _‘if_ _you just gave him a chance you would get along_ ’.

Tim was just about to give Jimmy another spray when Jimmy interrupted Tim by nudging him and pointing to the expensive and shiny electric blue Camaro parked five metres away from them.

“You should go for him. You look hot,” Jimmy said as he squeezed Tim’s nipple. Tim slapped Jimmy’s hand away. He could see the gears working away in Jimmy’s mind, wanting to make up for the money he lost.

“He’s probably not even gay. Corporate assholes aren’t usually gay,” Tim replied, not wanting to end up with a bloody nose and a bruised jaw just because Jimmy felt guilty for using all their rent money to get blazed.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jimmy replied. He pushed Tim in the direction of the sports car. “You know your worth. Don’t take less than a hundred.” Jimmy called as he headed for the entrance of the club, giving Tim a wink as the door closed behind him.

Tim let out a sigh and hoped that the corporate man actually _was_ gay and Tim could end up making some money and not sport a nasty hook to the face.

Tim approached the sports car and leant against the open window. “You looking for a date?” Tim asked coyly, smirking seductively at the man in the car. Tim was surprised to see that the man was handsome with his suit crisp and tailored to perfection without a crease in sight. His hair looked as though he had ran his hands through it several times exasperatedly, but the unfriendly scowl on his face as Tim finished talking made him look less appealing. 

“Do I _look_ like I’m looking for a date?” the corporate asshole snapped, directing his scowl at Tim. 

Tim fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Then what’s someone like you doing here? If you’re not careful somebody could take advantage of you.” Tim tried to make sure his voice sounded sugary sweet. He _needed_ this money.

“Someone like you?” the corporate asshole was now trying to get the car started, muttering something under his breath that Tim couldn’t catch.

“I’m only looking out for you, handsome. Wouldn’t want you falling into the wrong hands.”

The man rolled his eyes, not interested in Tim’s games. He hadn’t punched Tim yet, so maybe Tim wasn’t barking up the wrong tree. “Can you get me directions to Beverly Hills?”

“If that’ll lead to your bed, then sure,” Tim replied coyly.

The man made an exasperated sound, as though he was ready to run head-first into oncoming traffic if Tim made one more move on him.

Tim decided to change tack. He was getting nowhere trying to seduce this guy and he needed money. “I’ll give you directions. But for five bucks.”

“Fuck no,” the man swore and shook his head. Tim refrained from making the comment about how that kind of language was reserved for bed in fear that the man would knock his front teeth out. Through his suit, Tim could see his arms were muscled and from personal experience, the punches that accompanied arms as muscled as that bruised like a bitch. 

“Price just went up to ten bucks,” Tim said in a tone he knew was infuriating this asshole.

“Fine,” the man muttered. “Get in.”

Tim opened up the passenger seat and slid inside the car, which smelt of leather and cologne.

“You have change for a twenty?” the man asked, holding up a twenty-dollar bill. 

“Nope,” Tim answered, as he snatched the bill out of the man’s hand and pocketed it.

“Directions?” the man asked impatiently, not caring about the twenty-dollar bill.

“Uh, turn right at the end of the street,” Tim said, as he fumbled around with his seatbelt. He didn’t know if this man could even drive and he wasn’t prepared to take any chances. He and Jimmy couldn’t afford any hospital bills right now, especially since Jimmy was spending all their precious money to get high. 

Tim hummed appreciatively as the man started the car and glided down the street. “Is this car yours?” he asked.

The man shook his head. “No, it isn’t.”

“Stolen?”

“Not exactly.” Changing the conversation, the man asked, “what’s your name?”

“Anything you want to call me,” Tim replied coyly, batting his eyelashes at the man. Jimmy had applied a thick amount of mascara on Tim’s eyelashes, and his eyelashes were feeling all gooey and sticky. He hoped he didn’t look like a complete idiot in front of this man, who was good-looking. He looked to be about Tim’s age, maybe even older, but then again, Tim looked good for his age, there was no denying that. It was one of the many reasons why he was able to stay in this business for so long.

The man gave Tim a pointed look, unimpressed. Tim sighed defeatedly. “Tim. My name is Tim.”

“Just Tim?” the man asked, pressing for more and actually looking _interested_ , a change to how he was when Tim first approached him.

“Just Tim,” Tim replied, not wanting to reveal too much to this man he only met not even fifteen minutes ago, judging by the time on the dashboard.

“So, what hotel you staying at?” Tim asked as he looked out the window. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, but it didn’t irk Tim as it normally would.

“The Regent Beverly Wilshire,” the man answered as he turned right at the end of the street.

“Down the block, right at the corner,” Tim directed and settled in for the drive to the swanky hotel.

  


**⏤**

  


“How is it that you know so little about cars?” Tim asked, chuckling as he finished rambling about Justin’s car.

“My first car was a limousine,” Shaun answered, his eyes on the road.

Tim scoffed. “Now your horrible driving makes sense.” It wasn’t really directed at Shaun but as though Tim was talking out loud to himself. 

Shaun couldn’t hide the smile that formed at Tim’s response. He pulled over to the side of the road. “Have you ever driven a Camaro before?” he asked Tim.

“No,” Tim replied, his eyebrows raised at Shaun.

“You’re going to start now,” Shaun informed, as he got out of the car and Tim followed suit. As the crossed each other, Tim made a show of checking Shaun out, biting his bottom lip, impressed with what he saw.

Shaun could admit that Tim was hot. He had this boyish charm about him and his blunt nature and straightforwardness was what made Shaun decide to let him give him directions back to Beverly Hills.

(That, and the fact that he was lost).

But Shaun wasn’t really in the mood to be fooling around in the sheets. The party and his conversation with Nathan that had ended whatever they had had drained him, and now being lost meant that Shaun just wanted to curl up into his king-sized bed and sleep.

As soon as Tim began driving Justin’s Camaro, the conversation stopped between the two of them. Shaun wanted to keep talking to Tim; he kept Shaun on his toes and made him feel remotely human, something that he hadn’t felt in ages with all these business trips and the mountain of work that kept on piling up.

“How much money do you boys make these days?” Shaun asked, wanting to initiate conversation with Tim.

“You calculating if you could afford me for the night?” Tim turned away from the road to look at Shaun. From the orange streetlights, Shaun could see a twinkle in Tim’s eyes. Tim was persistent, and very good in his line of work, Shaun could admit. If Shaun didn’t have any self-control, Tim would have gotten his way in the backseat over twenty minutes ago. “Can’t take less than a hundred dollars.”

“Hundred dollars a night?”

“An hour.” Tim smirked.

“A hundred dollars an hour,” Shaun repeated. “That’s pretty stiff.”

Tim leaned over and squeezed Shaun’s dick, just hard enough for it to react to Tim’s touch. Shaun felt his neck flush as his legs parted unwittingly, craving a touch he hadn't felt in a long time.

Tim smirked at Shaun’s eagerness as he put his hand back on the wheel. “Well, no, but it’s got potential.”

Shaun’s resolve was on a fine line to becoming non-existent, and if Tim kept that up, they wouldn't make it to the hotel.

Shaun looked out the window as Tim focused his attention on driving. A street sign told Shaun they were approaching Rodeo Drive, away from the red-light district on Hollywood Boulevard.

Tim pulled up at the Regent Beverly Wilshire, tires screeching as he put on the brakes. A valet quickly rushed to open the door for Shaun as Tim got out on the opposite side himself, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Will you be needing your car tonight, Mr. Marsh?” the young valet asked Shaun.

“No,” Shaun replied as he handed over Justin’s car keys to the valet and turned his attention to Tim, who was sitting on the bench waiting for the bus.

“Waiting for the bus at this hour?” Shaun asked, standing behind Tim.

“I’ve got to get home at sometime,” Tim replied, turning around to face Shaun.

“How about you stay the night with me and then you can leave in the morning. It’s not safe for you to be wandering about on your own at this hour,” Shaun said, propositioning Tim.

Tim sighed dramatically, as though he hadn’t already made up his mind. Shaun knew Tim was eager as soon as he approached the car, and this was him playing mind games.

“If you say so,” Tim replied, getting up from the park bench and following Shaun inside the hotel. “You wanna know what’s funny?” Tim asked out of the blue, making Shaun stop in his tracks and turn around.

“What?” Shaun asked, trying to not show his nervousness.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Shaun.”

The corners of Tim’s lips turned upwards into a boyish smile. “Shaun’s my favourite name, you know.” His shoulder brushed up against Shaun’s, causing goosebumps to break out on Shaun’s skin.

“Really? How convenient.” Shaun’s eyes narrowed, not fooled by Tim as he tried to ignore the way his arm tingled where Tim had brushed past him.

Stepping inside the hotel, Shaun could see that Tim was in over his head. His mouth was parted in awe as he took in his surroundings; the gold chandelier hanging proudly from the ceiling with its crystals catching the light and refracting to all corners of the flashy lobby. Bellboys carrying guests’ luggage smiled at Shaun; too cheery for this hour of the night as they nodded warily at Tim, who was too busy soaking in the lobby to notice.

“Holy shit,” Tim marvelled, and Shaun wasn’t quick enough to hide his smile at an elderly woman dressed to the nines put down her newspaper, her eyes comically wide in horror at Tim’s reaction.

“Good evening, Mr. Marsh.” Shaun was greeted by a young woman at the receptionist’s desk, too chipper to be genuine.

“Evening. Could you send up some champagne and strawberries?” Shaun asked, fiddling with his pockets to check that he had his hotel room card with him. He looked back to Tim, checking to see if he was fine with the order Shaun had placed. Tim gave him a thumbs up and a flirty wink, and as Shaun looked back to the receptionist, her smile was wiped from her face as her lips were pressed into a thin line, disapproval written all over her face.

Shaun pretended to be oblivious to the change in the receptionist’s demeanour as he said goodbye and walked over to the elevator, a hand around Tim’s waist, drawing him closer.

Tim's lips brushed the shell of Shaun's ear. Tim was so close it was driving Shaun _crazy_. Trying to keep whatever self-control he had left, Shaun pressed the button to the top floor; the penthouse. 

The elevator dinged open, and Shaun jumped away from Tim as though he had been scalded. He made a beeline for the elevator, not even waiting to see if Tim was actually _in_ the elevator before he turned left to the penthouse.

“Hey.” Tim had grabbed Shaun’s hand and yanked him so they were face-to-face. Tim’s face was blank, but his eyes held anger and - _hurt?_

“If you’re going to have a problem being with someone like me, tell me that and I’ll leave.” Tim’s voice was cold and harsh, a contrast to the playful and seductive tone he was using when he approached Shaun back on Hollywood Boulevard.

Shaun didn’t answer right away, and Tim took that as to leave. Just as he went to turn, Shaun grabbed his arm, stopping him in his place. “I don’t want you to leave.” The words sounded strangely intimate towards somebody he had only met less than an hour ago, but they were out in the open and he couldn’t take them back.

Tim didn’t make a fuss about Shaun’s choice or words, or even _acknowledge_ that Shaun had spoken. But Tim didn’t continue to walk back to the elevator, giving Shaun the indication that he knew Shaun wanted this.

(Shaun wasn’t going to put a label on whatever this was. There was a chance that after tonight, he was never going to see Tim again).

Shaun let go of Tim’s arm, and started the long walk down to the penthouse. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tim marvelling at the impressive and expensive artworks that were hung up on the walls proudly.

Fiddling around in his pockets, he eventually got out the hotel room card and swiped it, pushing open the door when the light turned green. He flicked on the lights, not bothering to hold the door open for Tim. Tim walked past him, taking in the room as Shaun shrugged off his suit jacket.

“Impressed?”

Tim turned around, playing off his amazement with a sly shrug. “Please, I come here _all_ the time.”

Tim’s reaction down at the lobby and now in the penthouse said otherwise, but Shaun wasn’t going to push it.

Tim walked outside to the balcony, opening the french doors and letting the cool air seep through the room. The wind was cold, nipping at Shaun’s neck as he stood by the doors. Looking back out to the balcony, he saw Tim wrapping his arms around his body, his clothes giving him no protection to the cool night wind.

“Come back inside,” Shaun called out. “You’ll catch a cold out there.”

Tim didn’t give Shaun a flirty or witty reply as he walked back inside the room, closing the doors behind him. As Tim stood in the middle of the hotel room, he looked different. He didn’t look like the self-assured, confident person Shaun had met in front of the seedy nightclub, nor when he was critiquing Shaun’s driving. Standing in Shaun’s expensive hotel room, he looked vulnerable, insecure. It was a look that Shaun didn’t want to see on Tim again. This sympathy and compassion towards Tim surprised Shaun. He didn’t even know Tim from a bar of soap, but was feeling protective of him, as though he was a long-time friend or partner.

“What?” Tim’s tone wasn’t harsh, it was insecure, hesitant. It was as though Tim was second-guessing himself.

“Nothing,” Shaun replied softly, too intimate for somebody he only met for the first time and most likely would never see again. 

“So are we going to get on with it?” Tim started fiddling around in the pockets of his shorts, pulling out various condom packets in different colours and sizes.

“How about we talk for a little while?” Shaun suggested, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

Tim stopped in his tracks, dropping the condom packets onto the table. “Uh, okay, talk. We can do that.” Shaun knew that this normally didn’t happen to Tim and this was putting Tim on edge, not being able to take control of the situation and having to follow another person’s lead.

“You in town for pleasure or business?”

“Business.” Shaun made his way over to the other side of the room, sitting down on the leather armchair. Tim followed Shaun over, standing right in between his legs, looking down at him.

The light above was creating a little halo over Tim’s head, making him look almost angelic, but Shaun knew Tim wasn’t innocent. Nobody in Tim’s line of profession was innocent. They all lost their innocence a long time ago.

“Judging by this -” Tim waved his hand in the air, gesturing to the penthouse, “- I’d assume you’re a lawyer.”

“A lawyer? What makes you think I’m a lawyer?”

“You’ve got that sharp, useless look about you,” Tim answered, still standing up over Shaun.

“I’d hate to break it to you -” Shaun was interrupted by a knock on the door and a voice calling out ‘“room service!”

Shaun stood up to go and open the door, but Tim put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “I’ll go and make myself useful.”

Tim made a show of opening the door, leaning up against it, winking at the young waiter who had brought up their champagne and strawberries. “Hello,” Tim drawled, his eyes and smile feline-like.

The waiter gulped as he pushed past Tim, his head down as he mumbled, “where would you like this?”

“Over by the bar,” Tim answered for the two of them, giving the young waiter a flirty wink and smile. Shaun resisted the urge to put his head in his hands as the waiter turned a bright shade of red.

“It’ll be on your bill, Mr. Marsh,” the waiter squeaked as he turned to exit the room but bumped right into Tim.

“I’m so sorry… _Sean_ ,” Tim said as he read the waiter’s name tag. The waiter brushed past Tim and raced for the door, slamming it shut behind him.

“Did you really have to do that?” Shaun asked, as Tim hopped up onto the bar and bit into a strawberry.

“Do what?” Tim asked once he had finished chewing the strawberry.

“You know… frightening the kid,” Shaun responded, scratching the back of his head.

“It was only harmless,” Tim replied, shrugging his shoulders as he took another strawberry. “Unless you were jealous,” Tim added with a coy wink.

“If you really wanted that waiter, you wouldn’t be in my hotel room right now,” Shaun answered, feeling more confident as he got up from his chair and made his way over to Tim at the bar.

“Hmm,” Tim said as he took a bite out of his second strawberry. “Maybe I’m only here for your money.”

“You wouldn’t be the first one,” Shaun replied casually, hoping Tim wouldn’t notice or would ignore the tinge of hurt in his tone.

Tim raised an eyebrow, and Shaun thought Tim was going to question what he meant, but he instead asked, “so you’re rich, huh?”

“Ah...” Shaun thought the expensive hotel and the penthouse suite made that clear.

“I know _that_.” Tim rolled his eyes. “You’re not rushing to jump into bed with me, and considering I work by the hour, paying me mustn't be an issue.”

Shaun hummed as he poured two glasses for champagne for himself and Tim. “So hypothetically, if I asked you to hypothetically stay the night, how much would it cost?”

Tim smiled, playing along with Shaun’s game as he took the champagne place from Shaun. “Hypothetically speaking, three hundred dollars.”

  


**⏤**

  


Tim burst out into peals of laughter as he took another bite of his strawberry. He was sitting on the plush carpet watching reruns of 90’s comedies while Shaun made some business calls.

Shaun ended his call and put his phone down, sighing loudly. It made Tim look away from the screen. “Do you wanna join? There’s enough for both of us,” Tim offered, patting to the space next to him.

Shaun shook his head and Tim turned back to the screen, where the _Friends_ theme had just ended. From the corner of his eye, he saw Shaun sit down on the sofa, watching Tim. Normally, Tim would feel uncomfortable with somebody watching him, but with Shaun, it felt comforting.

_Get a grip, Tim. You’re never going to see him again after tonight._

Tim got a cushion from the opposite sofa and placed it in between Shaun’s legs. He spread Shaun’s legs apart, kneeling in between them on the cushion. He began to unbutton Shaun’s shirt, marvelling at the soft skin and his toned chest as he did so. Reaching the top of Shaun’s trousers, he slowly undid the zip, looking up at Shaun coyly, batting his gooey, mascara layered eyelashes.

“What do you want?” he asked huskily, leaning up to Shaun’s face, their mouths inches apart. Tim looked down at Shaun’s lips and licked his own lips, but pulled himself back in. He wasn’t going to break his rule, not even for this businessman who slowly pulling Tim in with his kindness and sincerity.

“What do you do?” Shaun asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

“Everything.” Tim leant over and whispered, his lips brushing over the shell of Shaun’s ear and causing goosebumps to form on his skin. He leant back in between Shaun’s legs once again. “Except one thing. I don’t kiss on the mouth.” If there was one thing Tim swore to never do, it was to kiss his clients on the mouth. He and Jimmy had come up with the rule when they first started, and although he didn’t know if Jimmy still kept it - the two of them were never the ones to kiss and tell - he would keep it until he was no longer wanted. 

“Neither do I,” Shaun replied. Tim took this as a hint to begin and started kissing down Shaun’s toned chest.

  


**⏤**

  


When Tim woke up the next morning, he was alone. Shaun’s side of the bed was cold, and Tim leant over and stretched, rolling over to Shaun’s side and taking in the smell of Shaun’s citrus shampoo that was lingering on his hotel-issued white pillow.

Tim rolled out of bed and put on the stock standard white hotel robe, covering himself up. He could smell food coming from the main room and hear the sound of paper rustling - most likely Shaun reading the newspaper. Tim snorted at the image. Who even _read_ the newspaper anymore?

Tim was greeted to the sight of Shaun sitting at the table, a large spread of breakfast foods in front of him. Shaun was dressed in a navy silk robe, paired with black fluffy slippers. His hair was fluffy, having been towel dried and free of product.

“Good morning,” Shaun greeted, putting down the newspaper once he realised he wasn’t alone.

“Morning,” Tim mumbled. He stood sheepishly in the middle of the room, feeling ridiculous in the stupid hotel robe. “You didn’t wake me, and I can see that you’re really busy. I’ll be out of here in just a minute.”

“You don’t need to hurry,” Shaun said, almost like he was placating Tim. “Come and eat breakfast with me. There’s plenty for the two of us.”

Tim slowly made his way down to the table, where Shaun was opening up the trays. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered everything.” Shaun looked sheepish as he said this, scratching the back of his head. Tim had come to recognise that it was a nervous tick of Shaun’s.

At this, Tim smiled gratefully. Shaun was the nicest client he’d had in a long time, even the best client he’d _ever_ had. Tim’s chest hurt at the fact that after today, they’d never see each other again. Burying that thought, he took a croissant and walked out onto the balcony.

“Good sleep?” Shaun asked as he watched Tim’s retreating figure. He wanted to wash away the awkwardness, to go back to how it was last night. Shaun tried to hide his blossoming smile as he thought about the previous night. It was one of the best nights he’s had in weeks, even months, if he’s being truly honest with himself. It made him realise how much he missed having someone around truly because he wanted to be around them, not because he needed somebody to act as arm candy at his exclusive functions.

“Best sleep I’ve had in ages.” Tim didn’t bother looking back as he marvelled at the sight before him. He had missed the sunrise, but was still blown away at the sight in front of him. Cars down below on the streets were rushing past each other like busy bees, in an attempt to beat the morning traffic. From up here, Tim could see everything, such as the the way pedestrians brushed past each other on the sidewalk, quick on their toes to avoid being late for work.

He felt disconnected from the world, as though he was watching everything from a bubble, unaffected and uninvolved.

When Tim walked back inside to grab another croissant, Shaun was busy texting away on his phone, stress lines forming on his face as he frowned.

“Work difficulties?” Tim as he sat down beside Shaun, grabbing another croissant as he did so.

“Something like that.” Shaun smiled sheepishly at Tim, as though he felt bad for being antisocial. It made Tim want to do something stupid as smile, so he shoved a large piece of croissant into his mouth.

“Sorry about that,” Shaun apologised as he placed his phone screen-down onto the table. “My line of work never stops.” Tim couldn’t help but noticed how defeated he sounded, as though he was losing a battle against his job.

“You never did get the chance to say what you do.” Tim was taken back to their conversation last night, before they were interrupted by the waiter who had brought up the strawberries and champagne.

“I’m a voluntary administrator.”

Tim didn’t know what that was, but he didn’t want to ask, in the fear of sounding unintelligent to Shaun.

Shaun laughed, not unkindly, when Tim didn’t respond. “I can see you don’t understand what that is.” He smiled at Tim, not offended by Tim’s lack of knowledge regarding his profession.

Tim, surprisingly, didn’t feel embarrassed at not knowing what a voluntary administrator was.

“In simple terms, I try to save a company so that it can continue operating.” As he explained his profession, Shaun took a sip out of his lukewarm coffee, pulling a face at the taste.

“That’s what happens when you’re too busy looking on your phone,” Tim teased, finishing off his second croissant.

“I can’t afford to ignore my clients otherwise I won’t have any,” Shaun replied, taking Tim’s teasing goodnaturedly. Shaun wasn’t what Tim expected at all; instead of being uptight and prissy, Shaun was the complete opposite. He laughed at Tim’s jokes and even bit back at Tim’s ribbing. The only person who did that was Jimmy, when he wasn’t defending his pathetic excuse of a boyfriend.

“Same here,” Tim said without thinking. Horrified at comparing his and Shaun’s different jobs, he went to take it back.

“Looks like we have more in common than we thought.” Shaun gave Tim a kind smile, before offering to pour Tim a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice.

  


**⏤**

  


Shaun had just replied to the last unread email in his inbox when his phone started to ring, the default ringtone cutting through Tim’s singing off-key but endearing singing in the bathroom.

Shaun groaned when he saw that it was Justin that was ringing, but had no choice but to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Shaun. Just ringing to tell you that Compton is set for tonight.” Justin’s voice rang tinnily through the speaker of his phone.

Shaun hummed in reply as Justin continued to speak, “he’s bringing his grandson as he’s grooming him to take over.”

Shaun snorted. He had met Nick Compton; he was one of those people who came from old money and was all brawn and no brains. He was more dedicated on flirting with every breathing thing than learning the ins and outs of the company he was about to take over. 

“Look, I-I gotta say this. I know you’re not going to like it, but it has to be said.” Shaun knew exactly what Justin was going to say before he even said it. Shaun inhaled sharply as Justin continued to speak.

“I don’t like you going alone. I think it would be better if you went with a… date.”

Shaun pursed his lips to stop him from saying something that Justin wouldn’t like.

“If finding somebody is the issue, I can set you up. I know you and Nathan aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

"And how do you know that?” Shaun asked defensively, hating that Justin knew about him and Nathan without Shaun even telling him.

“He wasn’t with you yesterday,” Justin answered, oblivious or not bringing himself to care about Shaun’s change of tone.

“I don’t need you to find me a date,” Shaun said, smiling over the phone as he stood in front of the closed bathroom door.

“And why is that?” Justin challenged, using his tone on Shaun that was reserved for the courtroom, baiting Shaun on. 

“Because I already have one.” Shaun took the bait and unceremoniously ended the call, interrupting Justin mid-sentence without a care. 

Now that Shaun finally had a moment to relax, he heard off-beat singing coming from the closed bathroom door. Shaun couldn't help but smile as Tim belted out the lyrics to _My Heart Will Go On_ with such emotion. Shaun stood up from the table and walked over to the bathroom door, knocking on it with much more force than usual, so Tim could hear him over his singing. Tim stopped mid-sentence, and breathlessly called out, “just a second!”

Shaun could hear Tim rushing around the bathroom, most likely trying to look decent. He tried to stifle his laugh as he heard Tim bang into something and curse loudly.

When Tim opened the bathroom door, he was wrapped up in a fluffy hotel-issued bathrobe and his cheeks were red from breathlessness and embarrassment. “Yes?” he asked, wrapping his arms around himself self-consciously.

"I have a business proposition for you.” Shaun tried to keep his face neutral, to not give anything away as he usually did on his business dinners and meetings. This was just like the hundred other business propositions he had made and would continue to make.

(At least that's what Shaun told himself to not dwell on the fact that Shaun didn't want Tim to walk out the penthouse door and never come back).  

Tim huffed. “And it couldn’t wait until I was dressed?”

“Not at all. This is high stakes,” Shaun replied seriously.

"Spit it out then.” Tim had crossed his arms, not annoyed but ruffled at being interrupted - no, _caught out._

It was endearing seeing Tim flustered at being caught singing along off-key in the bathroom.

“As you know, I’m in town for business, and will be until Sunday. I would like it if you would accompany me to my business functions for the week.” Shaun tried to not show it, but he was nervous. He placed his hands behind his back to hide from Tim that his hands were clammy, a side effect when Shaun was nervous. "You don't have to do anything your not comfortable with," Shaun added, hoping to persuade Tim. Shaun's pride was riding on this. He needed to one-up Justin. 

Tim didn’t say anything for what felt like hours to Shaun. His face was blank and unreadable, and Shaun didn’t know if he was going to regret asking or rejoice that he had gained the courage to ask.

“As much as I’d love to be at your beck and call -” Shaun couldn’t help but think of Nathan, of how Nathan felt as though Shaun treated him like his whole life revolved around being arm candy for Shaun at his business functions.“- but why me? You’re rich, I’m not. Besides, why would you want a guy on your arm when you could find any other girl who’d take the offer for no money at all?”

Shaun sighed, his chest feeling tight as he was taken back to the day he was outed. He tried to not dwell on it. It wasn’t like he could change it, but it still kept him awake sometimes, not having the chance to tell people on his own terms. Although not having to hide and constantly look over his shoulder was nice. It was tiring being constantly on edge, having to make sure that he was careful enough to ensure that nobody found out.

“I’m out.” Shaun gave a simple answer, not wanting to get into too much detail.

Tim nodded his head in understanding. “It’s gonna cost ya, hope you know that.”

“Name me a price.” Shaun was getting desperate. He had already told Justin he had a date out of sheer frustration, and if he showed up to the Compton dinner without a date, Justin would lose his shit and Nick Compton would leech onto him immediately.

“Three thousand,” Tim finally said. It was obvious that Tim had said the first number that had come to his head, but Shaun didn’t want to negotiate when he was this desperate and didn’t have a backup plan.

“Done.”


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the second chapter! I'm sorry this took much longer than it should've. comments are appreciated!

“I’ll be out for the rest of the day,” Shaun said as Tim emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy hotel-issued bathrobe. “You can go out and buy some clothes for the week.” Shaun took out a stack of notes from his wallet and placed it on the dining table for Tim. 

“What do I need to buy?” Tim asked, taking the notes and stuffing it into his robe pocket. 

“Nothing too outrageous, but formal enough for a business dinner,” Shaun replied over his shoulder, grabbing his briefcase on his way past to the door without breaking his stride. 

“See you then," Tim said, stretching languidly as he did so. 

Shaun just smiled softly at Tim before leaving the hotel room. 

Tim took out the stack of notes in his robe pocket and smiled. He couldn’t believe Shaun was paying him $3000 for six days plus with extra money on top to buy him a new wardrobe for the week. Shaun was the nicest client Tim had ever had. Shaun was probably the nicest client _ever_. 

Tim was thinking about all the things he could do with the $3000 from Shaun. He could pay rent, could pay the water and electricity bills, could stock up on groceries, maybe pay off some of the numerous credit cards Jimmy kept taking out… 

Tim’s eyes widened as he thought of Jimmy, and rushed to the bedroom to the phone sitting on the bedside table. Tim punched in the number to the club, and waited for his boss to inevitably answer on the other side. 

“Who’s this?” a voice demanded in a harsh whisper, suspicion laced in his tone. 

“It’s me, Punter,” Tim said, not bothering to hide the sigh he let out afterwards. 

“Tim? Where are you?” Ricky Ponting, his boss, asked, sounding less suspicious now that he knew the owner of the call. Jimmy had always said that Tim was Punter’s favourite; always doting on Tim and always telling the others to follow Tim’s example. Jimmy had also said that Punter was most likely in _love_ with Tim, if not obsessed, to which Tim always flipped Jimmy off. It was ridiculous, just like the other 99% of things Jimmy spewed out. 

“On business,” Tim said shortly. He wasn’t in the mood to speak to Punter, not when he needed to speak to Jimmy. Jimmy had probably stayed up all night getting high with Wadey. He was lucky if the apartment was in one piece when he got back. 

“Oi, Jimmy, I have Tim on the phone. Wants to speak to ya -” Punter didn’t even get to finish speaking, as Jimmy most likely snatched the phone from him. 

“What the fuck, Tim! I’ve been up worrying sick about you,” Jimmy snapped angrily in greeting. 

“Nice to hear from you too,” Tim replied sarcastically. 

“Oh shut it,” Jimmy snapped. “Glad to know that you’re breathing.” 

“Missing me, were you?” Tim couldn’t help but smirk (and feel happy - not that Tim would ever admit it) at the fact that Jimmy was worried about him. 

“Who else would pay the bills?” came Jimmy’s response. 

“You and your stoner boyfriend would end up homeless before you could even light a joint if I wasn't around,” Tim snorted. 

“I’m going to ignore what you said for a minute and instead focus on how your night went with - how did you put it? The _‘corporate asshole_ ’?” 

“Well, for starters, he’s not an asshole,” Tim began. “And he’s offered me three thousand dollars to spend the next week with him.” 

“The sex must be good, then,” Jimmy commented. Tim rolled his eyes. Trust sex to be the only thing Jimmy gathered from the conversation.  

“Not everything’s about sex, you horny fuck.” 

“You didn’t disagree, so I must be right.” Tim could practically seeJimmy’s stupid shit-eating grin over the phone when he knew he caught Tim out. 

“Fuck off,” Tim responded weakly, not knowing what to say but not wanting to give Jimmy the satisfaction of being right. 

“I would have never thought that guy from last night was into twinks,” Jimmy said almost thoughtfully over the phone. 

“Are you serious? You convinced me to go for him.” 

“I didn’t think it would _work_. I thought he would punch you the shit out of you for making a move on him, not offer you to stay for the rest of the week to root him all night long.” 

“We are not going to root all night long, you clown. He’s hired me for _business_.” 

“Hmm. Whatever you say. Doesn’t seem like just _business_ to me, but it's your life. As long as you bring back the money, I don't care."

“You just wait until I get back. You are not going anywhere near the money. I am sick of you and that stoner of yours wasting the little money we have on getting high every night,” Tim snapped. He had been thinking about this while he was in the bath, having enough of Jimmy wasting all their money on drugs when they couldn’t even afford to pay off their rent and bills as it was. 

“Whatever,” Jimmy said flatly. 

“Can you give me Zamps? I need to speak to him,” Tim asked, remembering the other thing he called for. 

“What do you need to ask him that you can’t ask me?” Jimmy asked, being the same nosy person Tim had met all those years ago. 

“It’s about shopping. You’d actually need a fashion sense for that,” Tim quipped. 

Jimmy laughed good-naturedly down the line. No matter how many times Jimmy screwed up and how many times Tim insulted Jimmy's off again-on again boyfriend, they could always rib each other without the other getting offended. “Far enough. I’ll put him on - Zamps! Hold on, Tim wants to speak to ya.” 

Before Tim could say goodbye, Jimmy was off the phone and Zamps’ softer voice replaced Jimmy’s boisterous one. 

“Hey, Tim. What can I do for you?” 

“I’m out with a client all week, and I need new clothes. Do you know any shops for clothes suitable for business dinners?” 

“So this client of yours actually  _is_ rich. Jimmy’s been blabbing on about your new squeeze all night and we all thought he was lying. Punter looked one second away from bursting a blood vessel.” 

“No surprises there. Jimmy can't help but blab to every thing that breathes," Tim replied, choosing to ignore what Zamps said about Punter, about how maybe Jimmy was right for once. 

“Where are you?” 

“Beverly Hills,” Tim responded. 

“There’s only one place to shop, and that’s Rodeo Drive, baby,” Zamps responded gleefully, much more excited about this shopping trip than Tim. The only thing Tim knew about Rodeo Drive was that it was full of snobby rich people, who definitely were not Tim's crowd. 

“Thank you, Zamps,” Tim said gratefully. He'd only spoken to Zamps a handful of times since Zamps started, but Tim liked the kid.

“Happy to help. Twinks have to help other twinks, you know? It’s in the unwritten gay codebook,” Zamps replied cheekily. 

Tim had no idea why he kept getting called a twink; he was much older than the age of a twink, but he put it down to his features that made him look much younger than he was. Not that he minded his looks, it meant he could stay in his line of profession much longer than other men could. 

"See you in a week, make sure Jimmy doesn't get himself kicked out of our apartment," Tim said lightly, but deep down he meant it. The last thing he needed on his plate right now was to be homeless. 

Zamps laughed. "Will do. Good luck shopping. If you need anymore help, just call." 

"Thanks, Zamps," Tim said before the line went dead with a dull click. 

After getting off the phone, Tim changed into his clothes from the night before. He grabbed the notes of money Shaun had left him on the table, where he noticed a folded piece of notepad paper. Tim unfolded the note, and in the neatest handwriting Tim had ever seen, Tim was told that there was a change of clothes for Tim in a plastic bag in the closet. 

Tim walked back into the bedroom and opened up the closet, seeing a wrapped plastic bag squeezed between two pairs of polished business shoes. Tim pulled out the bag and untied it, revealing a plain white t-shirt and an old pair of jeans, the colour faded from being washed constantly. Tim couldn’t help but smile; the gesture was small yet very considerate. Tim’s chest hurt at the thought of not seeing Shaun again when the week was over. 

Tim shook his head and quickly changed into Shaun’s clothes. The clothes were big on Tim’s small frame, but it was better than looking like a deer in headlights out on the streets in his ‘work’ clothes. He rolled up the sleeves of the shirt so they reached his biceps, feeling like a frat boy in college. He rolled up the legs of his jeans so they reached the tops of his ratty sneakers. Embarrassingly, Tim had to pull in the waist of Shaun’s jeans before putting on his belt so the jeans didn’t spontaneously fall down to his ankles in the middle of Rodeo Drive. Tim knew Shaun wasn’t a small man by any means and Tim wasn’t that much shorter than him, but having to pull in the waist of his jeans made Tim feel ridiculously small.  

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, Tim finally deemed himself presentable. He didn’t look his best, but Tim couldn’t remember the last time he could honestly say he _did_ look his best. 

Tim felt much better in Shaun’s clothes as he walked through the impeccable lobby and was grateful for his gesture. The receptionist at the front desk stared at Tim, her eyes pinched as though she was trying to picture where she had seen him before. Tim walked past her as quickly as he could to get away from her bruising stare. 

Tim sheltered his eyes away from the sweltering sun, wishing he had brought a hat with him. He had no idea where he was going and the street signs around him were not helpful at all. A group of middle-aged women were laughing and gossiping loudly with each other as they crossed the road. They were wearing tight dresses, pearls were hanging around their necks and they all had matching _Michael Kors_ handbags. 

 _Bingo_. Tim jogged to cross the road, following them but keeping a healthy distance away from them. 

When Tim saw the signs for _Louis Vuitton_ , _Chanel_ and _Gucci_ , he knew he was in Rodeo Drive. The group of ladies he had been following took off into _Chanel_ , leaving Tim not knowing which shop to step inside first. 

Tim couldn’t help but marvel through the windows of the shops. This was the closest he had ever been to designer shops, and he most likely would never step foot here again. He took in the gold watches, the perfectly tailored suits, the jewellery that shined when the mid-afternoon sun hit them. 

He was slightly overwhelmed. He had no idea what he was looking for, and where he was looking for it. All Shaun had said was to not wear anything outrageous, which was not helpful in the slightest. But, he needed to find something, so Tim took a deep breath and stepped inside a shop that was full of expensive suits. 

There were three female sales assistants in the shops, all fiddling with the mannequins, making sure they were nothing less than perfect. Tim could feel the hostility coming off them in waves when he stepped inside, as they scrutinised him from head to toe.

Resentment bubbled in Tim’s throat, ready to snap at these entitled and horrible women. But he put his temper in check. Yelling at these workers and getting himself kicked out was not going to help him buy something for Shaun’s business dinner tonight. 

The sales assistant closest to Tim spoke, ending the heavy silence in the store. “Can we help you?” her tone was impersonal, resembling the air of a sales assistant who did not care for her customers, but rather the paycheck that was behind the sale. 

“Yes, actually,” Tim replied, acting clueless to the sales assistant’s hostility as he walked around, pretending to check out the suits displayed on the mannequins beside him. 

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” the sales assistant asked again, gritting her teeth as she got the words out. 

“Yes,” Tim replied, still looking at the mannequins. “Something professional, sophisticated, you know? It’s for a business dinner.” 

“I see.” 

Tim was now walking around the store and passed by two older women sitting in front of the change rooms who looked away and turned their noses up the second Tim looked their way. He went up to the mannequin closest to the women and said, “How much for this suit?” The suit was navy blue with a plain white business shirt underneath. The mannequin sported a bright red tie, completing the look. 

The sales assistant grimaced as she slowly walked up to Tim. She was trying to appear graceful in her heels, but to Tim it looked like her heels were two sizes too small, resulting in her looking one step away from falling flat on her face. “I don’t think this would fit you.” Her tone was calm, but her eyes were cutting, sharp. As though she enjoyed looking down on people who didn’t look like they were the same class as her. 

“I don’t remember asking if it would fit me. I remember asking _how much it is._ ” Tim matched his tone with the sales assistant, but narrowed his eyes, making it clear to her that he could be just as petty as she was. 

“How much is this, Marie?” the sales assistant asked another worker from across the store. 

The blonde - Marie - stalked over to Tim. “It’s very expensive,” she said patronisingly, arms folded and lips pulled up into a taunting smirk. 

“I have money to spend, which I intend to do. So do your job and _tell me the price_.” Tim’s voice was dangerously low, a telltale sign that he was very close to losing his cool. 

“I don’t think we have anything here for you,” the original sales assistant said haughtily. She looked Tim up and down again before adding, “you’re obviously in the wrong place.” Her bright red lips pulled into a cruel smirk, feeling satisfied with the way she was treating Tim, just because he was of lower class to her. 

“ _Obviously_ ,” Tim spat before turning around and exiting the store, letting the door slam loudly behind him. 

Tim’s hands were shaking with rage once he was outside. He felt so inferior, so powerless to those pompous and vindictive sales assistants. Never once had Tim been ashamed of where he came from, but now, he really saw what people like him were thought of by people like  _them_. 

Deep down, underneath all the rage and resentment Tim felt for the sales assistants, he felt humiliated. It took a lot for Tim to feel humiliated, but those ladies had found all of Tim’s well-hidden insecurities and picked them apart. 

The bubble Tim had been living in for the past two days popped. The divide between Shaun and Tim was now apparent. They were like parallel lines; living in two different worlds that should never have met. Tim didn’t know what he was thinking when he agreed to this. All he wanted to do was to go home, back to his run-down apartment he shared with Jimmy and never see Shaun again. 

Not wanting to face any more humiliation, Tim headed back to the hotel, brushing past pedestrians on the sidewalk as fast. He reached the hotel in less than ten minutes, ignoring the concierge’s cheery hello as he rushed towards the elevator. 

The hotel manager saw Tim walk past, and stopped his conversation with one of the elderly patrons to walk beside Tim. “Excuse me, sir, may I help you?” he asked, polite and cheery as every other worker in this hotel. He was older than Tim, appearing to be in his early forties, with salt-and-pepper coloured hair. 

“I’m going to my room.” Tim kept his eyes on the elevator as he walked. 

“Do you have a key?” 

This made Tim stop, remembering he had left his hotel room card back in the penthouse suite. “No, I left my hotel room card in my room. I’m on the top floor,” Tim explained to the hotel manager. 

“You’re a guest here?” the hotel manager asked questioningly. 

“I’m with a friend.” 

“Who is?” 

“Shaun...” Tim replied in a faltering tone. 

“Shaun…” the hotel manager repeated, raising his eyebrows. 

Tim began to think. Shaun had never mentioned his surname, and if Tim didn’t give the hotel manager an answer, he would be thrown out of the hotel, resulting in another dose of humiliation today. 

Behind them, the elevator chimed and the doors opened, revealing the waiter from last night who brought up the champagne and strawberries Shaun ordered. 

Upon seeing Tim, the waiter’s eyes widened in fright, and he stepped back inside the elevator and frantically pressed a button, hoping the elevator doors would shut. 

“He knows who I am! He served me last night!” Tim pointed to the waiter, who looked caught out as the hotel manager ushered him over. 

“Do you know this young man?” the hotel manager asked the waiter - what was his name? Sam? Steven? Simon? _Sean!_ His name was Sean. 

Sean nervously nodded his head, the fear evident in his eyes. “He came in with Mr. Marsh last night.” 

Tim slapped Sean on the shoulder as he walked past him. “Thanks, Sean.” Tim made his way inside the elevator and began to press the button to the top floor when the hotel manager stood in between the doors, preventing them from closing. 

Upon seeing the nosy and distrusting hotel manager, Tim sighed. “What _now_?” he cried out, exasperated with everybody viewing him as suspicious just because he didn’t wear a stuffy and claustrophobic suit all day long. 

The hotel manager was not fazed by Tim’s outburst as he calmly ushered Tim out of the elevator. “It’s alright, come with me for a chat.” 

Tim was guided into the hotel manager’s office, where he poured two mugs of coffee for himself and Tim. Tim was seated in the armchair opposite the manager’s mahogany desk. 

“Now young man, what is your name?” the hotel manager looked over his shoulder as he continued pouring the coffee into the two ceramic mugs. 

“Why do you want to know?” Tim didn’t bother keeping out the annoyance from his tone. He was sick of people treating him like a criminal who deserved to be locked up. 

“Don’t play with me,” the hotel manager warned sternly. 

Tim sighed, slouching down in the chair. “Tim,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes at the manager’s back. 

The hotel manager handed Tim a steaming mug of coffee as he leaned against his desk, towering over Tim with his own mug. Surprisingly, Tim didn’t feel small and inferior below the hotel manager. It seemed as though the hotel manager was not trying to be intimidating to make Tim feel small and insignificant. 

“I don’t suppose you know this, but what happens at other hotels don’t happen at this hotel. However, Mr. Marsh is a very special customer, and at this hotel, we like to think of our very special customers as friends. Since Mr. Marsh is a customer, it is expected of him to sign in any additional… guests.” At this, Tim looked down at his feet. “But just this once, we are willing to overlook it. Now, I’m assuming you’re a ...” It was now the hotel manager’s turn to feel abashed as he looked down at his own feet. 

Tim raised his eyebrows at what the hotel manager was implying. Tim was about to answer when the hotel manager said, “... relative.” Through the twinkle in his eye, he knew that was Tim was not a relative of Shaun’s. “So you must be his…” 

“Cousin,” Tim answered. 

“So I presume that once Mr. Marsh leaves, so will you. Unless you have other _cousins_ staying here.” 

Tim rolled his eyes right in front of the hotel manager, not caring how the older man reacted. “Yes, you will never see me again.” 

“Glad we understand each other,” the hotel manager said, and then took a long sip from his coffee. The coffee in Tim’s hands had gotten lukewarm, but he didn’t want to take one sip from this man, who was just as horrible as the sales assistants back on Rodeo Drive, but at least was more subtle about his displeasure towards Tim. “Since you are a guest here, it is encouraged that you dress a little more appropriately.” 

“You don’t think I know that? That’s what I was trying to do. I tried to get a suit on Rodeo Drive, but instead of being assisted, I was shamed by these sales assistants because of my status. They assumed that just because I don’t dress like a stuck up, rich asshole like all of you that I’m poor and beneath you all. But guess what? I have all this money -” As Tim was getting worked up, he took out all the cash that Shaun had given him earlier on in the day. “- but no suit. But I wouldn’t expect you to help someone like me.” Tim could hear his voice waver, his resolve weakening, but he was so tired of being judged, he was so tired of everything. He just wanted to leave this hotel, to leave Beverly Hills and never come back. 

The hotel manager walked around to the other side of his desk and dialled a number on the phone.

Tim scoffed. “Great, you’re calling the cops. Tell them I said hi.”

The hotel manager ignored Tim. “Men’s clothing. Hilton, please.” After a long pause, the hotel manager resumed speaking. “Hello, Hilton, this is Michael Klinger from the Regent Beverly Wilshire. I’d like you to do a favour for me.” The hotel manager - Michael - regained eye contact with Tim as he continued talking over the phone. “I’m sending someone over. His name is Tim. He’s a special guest.” Tim saw the playful twinkle in Michael’s eyes as he spoke on the phone. 

Tim had no idea what he just got himself into. 

 

****⏤** **

 

When Tim walked into the store, he felt more at ease than what he did over on Rodeo Drive. He spotted a mirror nearby, and went to check himself in the mirror to make sure he was presentable, not wanting a repeat of what happened earlier in the day. He tried to get the creases out of Shaun’s shirt, and re-folded the ends of Shaun’s jeans about ten times on his way here. 

A man clad in a well-fitting suit came up behind him. From the mirror, Tim could see the man was slightly taller than he was, but with slightly more muscle. “You must be Tim. I’m Hilton.” He stuck out his hand, which Tim shook as he flashed him a kind smile that calmed some of Tim's nerves. 

“Hi,” Tim replied. 

“What are your plans while you’re in town?” Hilton asked. 

“Dinner,” Tim answered. 

“Come with me, we’ll find you something to wear for dinner,” Hilton said and started to walk away from the mirror, a sign for Tim to follow. They walk up the stairs to the next level, where mannequins are lined up around the store, wearing expensive suits that came in all kinds of colours. All these options were making Tim feel overwhelmed, but Hilton sensed this and flashed him another kind smile. 

“It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Come on, we’ll start you off with something simple.” 

The next hour and a half was filled with Tim being handed suits and trying them on, only for Hilton to shake his head and make Tim change, and to hand him more clothing to try on. Tim was feeling slightly overwhelmed, but with Hilton's reassuring smile and calm demeanour, Tim felt relaxed and welcomed, something he didn't feel with those sale assistants back on Rodeo Drive. 

 In the end, Hilton and Tim had decided on a simple single-breasted navy blue suit, with a bright red tie. Standing in front of the mirror, Tim felt like he was seeing a different person. The last time he had worn a suit was to his uncle's funeral, and it was his father's old suit that was two sizes too big for him. This suit however, was fitted, hugging Tim's frame in all the right places. 

After paying, Tim said goodbye to Hilton, genuinely grateful for his assistance. Tim had been thrown into the deep end, and without Hilton's help - and the help of the hotel manager - Tim could have drowned, being way over his head. 

Tim hadn't even put one foot inside the penthouse suite when the phone rang. Tim ran over to the king-sized bed to pick it up, but not before gently placing down his suit, which was protected by a garment bag. 

"Hello?" 

"Never, ever pick up the phone." At Shaun's response, Tim rolled his eyes. _He called_ him!

"Hello to you too," Tim drawled sarcastically. "Why are you calling me then?" Tim added. 

"Did you buy clothes today?" Shaun asked. Over the line, Tim could hear the background noise of chatter, papers being shuffled and phones ringing. 

"I got a suit, a fancy one, to fit in with you and your world," Tim answered as he sat down on the bed. 

"I'll be at the hotel lobby at 7:45 sharp. Don't be late," Shaun said in a rush, not even bothering to reply to Tim. 

Tim bit down a retort at the lack of chivalry, but realised that this was simply business. Shaun didn't have to display any romantic gestures or chivalry, not when he was paying Tim to be his escort, and only thought of Tim as that; an escort. 

Tim muttered a "fine" before ending the call with a audible click. Tim didn't know why he was so upset. This was just a business deal, and when the week concluded, Tim would never see Shaun again. Shaun would be jetting off back to New York and Tim would go back to his shitty apartment and job struggling to get by. 

The phone rang again, cutting through the silence, and Tim picked it up with an annoyed, " _hello_?" 

"What did I say about picking up the phone?" 

"Then stop calling me," Tim snapped, hanging up before Shaun could get another word in. 

Tim sat down on the bed, finally being able to stop after rushing around all day. He just needed to rest for a few hours before he got ready for the dinner in the evening. Lying in the middle of the bed surrounded by the fluffy hotel pillows, Tim switched on the television. 

 

****⏤** **

 

When Shaun stormed into the hotel lobby, Tim was nowhere to be seen. Shaun's hands clenched into fists - he gave Tim simple instructions to be down in time, and he couldn't even do it? 

Heading for the elevators, Shaun was stopped by the hotel manager. "Pardon me, Mr. Marsh, I'm Mr. Klinger, manager of this hotel. I have a message for you from your cousin, sir." 

"My cousin?" Shaun echoed, puzzled. 

"The man who has been staying with you," the hotel manager explained. 

Shaun couldn't help but laugh. "That man - he isn't my cousin," Shaun admitted. Upon seeing the knowing smile on the hotel manager's face, Shaun realised that he knew all along. "What's the message?" Shaun asked impatiently. The last thing he wanted was to be late to dinner, and see Nick Compton's leering smile from the table as Shaun walked in. 

"He's waiting for you in the lounge." 

After thanking the hotel manager, Shaun made his way over to the lounge. The lounge could only be described as elegant, with gold chandeliers hanging proudly from the high ceilings and the sound of classical music wafting around the room. 

But there, seated in front of the bar, was Tim, wearing a smart navy blue suit and sitting with his back straightened, the image of elegance and grace. Tim turned around and gave Shaun a bashful smile from across the room. Shaun's heart skipped a beat and his stomach dropped, in the way one's stomach drops during a rollercoaster ride. Shaun was lost for words at the sight of Tim, who hopped off the barstool and walked over to Shaun in the middle of the room. 

Tim was only a few centimetres shorter than Shaun, but much leaner, but as Tim approached Shaun, wearing a tailored suit that hugged him in all the right places - shoulders, hips, thighs, _ass_ \- Shaun felt small. There was a lump in his throat that didn't want to go away, no matter how many times Shaun tried to swallow it down. 

For those few moments, it felt like Shaun and Tim were the only two people in the world. Everything in the background blurred as all Shaun could register was Tim who was standing right in front of him, leaving Shaun feel breathless and a tight knot deep in his stomach. 

"You look nice," Shaun complimented and watched as Tim's cheeks turned red. 

"Thanks," Tim replied, looking down at his shoes. 

Shaun lead Tim to the limousine waiting in front of the hotel, stopping to let Tim climb in first; Shaun might be an asshole, but he knew how to be chivalrous when he had to be. All throughout the drive to the restaurant, Tim chattered about his day in order to fill the awkward silence that was building up in the enclosed space. It was clear Tim was nervous; his leg kept bouncing up and down and his hands were balled into fists by his sides. 

When the limousine stopped, Tim tensed up, fear evident on his face as his leg started to bounce more rapidly. Shaun placed a gentle hand on Tim's knee to stop Tim's bouncing leg. "Hey," Shaun whispered, lowly. He watched as Tim raised his head to look at him. _Have Tim's eyelashes always been that long? Were his eyes always that hazel?_

"It's going to be okay," Shaun continued once he realised he had paused for too long. "I'm going to be with you." 

Tim didn't speak, only nodding his head. Shaun squeezed Tim's knee as the limousine door opened. Shaun stepped out onto the sidewalk as he buttoned up his suit. Tim grabbed Shaun's outstretched hand as Shaun helped Tim out of the limousine. Shaun thanked the chauffeur as he stretched out his arm, longing for the weight of Tim looping his arm around Shaun's. 

As soon as the pair had stepped inside the lavish restaurant, a maitre d' approached them. "Mr. Marsh, your party is waiting." Shaun and Tim followed the maitre d' through the opulent restaurant, past tables where the patrons were dressed to the nines, discussing business ventures and politics. 

In the middle of the restaurant, sat Nick Compton and his grandfather, Denis Compton. Upon seeing Shaun, Nick stood up eagerly, followed by his grandfather, who stood up slowly. Nick gave Shaun a lewd smile, biting down on his bottom lip. Upon seeing Tim standing beside Shaun, his smile dropped, displeased. 

"Mr. Marsh, I'm sure you have met my grandson, Nicholas," Denis Compton introduced. 

"Please, Granddad, Nick is fine," Nick Compton muttered. 

"Pleased to see you both. This is a friend, Timothy Paine," Shaun introduced Tim, plastering on his business smile. 

"Tim is just fine," Tim corrected as he shook both of the Compton men's hands. 

Small talk ensued for the beginning of the meal, but as the dishes started to arrive, the conversation shifted over to business. Shaun could see that Tim was uninterested and Shaun tapped his leg underneath the table in warning. Tim scowled, but covered it up before the Compton men noticed. Shaun turned his attention to the conversation, reminding himself that he was here on business and had a job to do. 

The evening went painfully slow; the Comptons wouldn't budge with letting their company begin the process of administration. Shaun tried to tell them numerous times that this process wouldn't lead to their company becoming insolvent (even though Shaun knew it would; he had seen their income statements from the financial year that just passed - it was _shocking_ ). 

And when Nick Compton wasn't furious with Shaun wanting to determine whether his company could be salvaged or not, he switched between giving Shaun lewd looks or giving Tim the stink eye, which Tim happily gave back, causing Shaun to laugh into his napkin and disguise it as a cough one too many times. 

The night ended with Nick Compton walking out and his grandfather following behind him, promising Shaun that he would tear him apart. Shaun tried not to laugh; _he_ would be the one tearing things apart, and the thing he would be tearing apart would be the Compton company. 

When they arrived back at the hotel, Tim rushed straight to the bathroom, wanting to change out of the suit, saying it was making him feel claustrophobic. Shaun headed for the balcony, sitting down on the chair placed right in front of the double french doors as he stared out in the night. The dinner went horribly; the Comptons were not willing to accept that they needed outside help if they wanted their business to stay afloat. Seeing Nick Compton didn't help either; Shaun wanted nothing to do with the man, and for some reason Nick couldn't let it go. It was selfish of Shaun, but having Tim there as a buffer between himself and Nick was comforting. And seeing Tim's facial expressions whenever Nick Compton acted all high and mighty was priceless. 

Shaun didn't know how long he was out on the balcony as Tim shuffled over out on the balcony wearing Shaun's slippers and smelling of Shaun's citrus soap. "Is everything you own citrus scented? Your shampoo, your soap - is your _deodorant_ citrus too?" 

Shaun laughed halfheartedly, sensing Tim's attempts to cheer him up. "It's silly, but it reminds me of my brother. He loves all things citrus." 

"I didn't know you have a brother," Tim said. 

"He's eight years younger than me. We don't see eye to eye on certain things which caused a strain on our relationship," Shaun explained. He didn't know why he was telling Tim all of this; Shaun hated speaking about Mitch, and the one time Nathan had mentioned Mitch, Shaun got so angry that Nathan was too scared to mention Mitch ever again. 

Tim just nodded his head, and fell silent. He was leaning against the balcony railing, illuminated by the bright light of the full moon cutting across the inky night sky. The moonlight accentuated Tim's jawline, and Shaun didn't realise how prominent Tim's jawline was now that his face was clean shaven. 

"Sometimes I wished I had a sibling," Tim spoke, cutting through the deep silence. His tone was wistful, like he was speaking out to the night air rather than to Shaun. "The closest thing I have to a sibling is my best mate Jimmy. I love him, but he can be a real dickhead at times. He was the reason we met, actually." 

At this, Shaun smiled. "Do tell." 

"Jimmy spotted you outside of the club looking like a deer in headlights and told me to go for it, said you were rich and had the money to pay me." 

"So you were using me for money?" The words sounded harsh, but Shaun spoke in a teasing tone to soften the blow of his words. He wasn't mad at Tim, he knew what this business was like. And besides, it wasn't as though Shaun wasn't using Tim as well; it would hypocritical to accuse Tim of using him when he was doing the exact same thing. 

"I honestly thought you were going to punch me," Tim admitted. "Corporate men are usually in the closet, or are in denial that they're not completely straight. In my experience, anyway." 

"So you've been with many corporate men?" Shaun asked, glad that Tim was opening up to him just like he had moments ago. 

"Not many. Afraid I'm gonna get beaten to a pulp. My face is the only thing I have going for me." Tim laughed his last comment off, brushed it aside like it didn't matter, but the slight frown on Tim's mouth made it apparent that he _did_ care, that it _did_ matter. "Unlike Jimmy. He's got a face only a mother could love." Tim smiled fondly at the mention of his mate, making Shaun's stomach churn. Shaun didn't have anybody, not like how Tim had Jimmy. Shaun had screwed everybody in his life over, and then ultimately screwed himself over when he was left all alone.  

"What made you take a chance on me?" 

"I had the upper hand since you were lost. Figured you couldn't hit me since you needed directions on how to get back." Tim had a playful smirk on his face, and Shaun was taken back to the night when they met, when Tim was pushing all of Shaun's buttons and knowing it, pushing him into a corner and knowing that Shaun had to give in as Tim had him right where he wanted. 

Tim looked Shaun in the eye, and a wave of arousal unexpectedly hit Shaun. He could feel his trousers tightening and knew that soon a noticeable bulge would follow. He shifted, trying desperately to not look at the column of Tim's neck that was illuminated by the moonlight, to not fixate on how lithe his body was. He looked everywhere that wasn't Tim; at his shoes, back inside the penthouse pretending to look at the time, out to the blinking lights of Los Angeles in the distance. 

It was all in vain as Tim stood in front of Shaun, pushing his legs open and sitting down on his lip, rubbing up against Shaun's bulge. Leaning up against Shaun's ear, Tim whispered, "if you wanted this, all you had to do was say it." 

Shaun bucked his hips involuntarily, another wave of arousal hitting him. He couldn't - he _wouldn't_ let Tim have the upper hand. "Well now that you know, what are you going to do about it?" Shaun asked, looking at Tim, who was only a few centimetres away from Shaun. If all the blood hadn't gone to Shaun's dick, he would have thought about how intimate this was for two people who were using each other. But since all the blood _had_ gone to Shaun's dick, it was only a passing thought. 

"Whatever you want," Tim whispered, raising his hips slightly as his lips grazed Shaun's ear teasingly. 

"How about we go inside and we put that mouth of your's to good use?" 

Tim didn't say anything, but his eyes darkened, giving Shaun every indication that Tim wanted this as much as he did. And that was all Shaun needed to stand up and lead Tim back inside to the bed. 


End file.
